


behind the closet hatch

by kassian



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Character Death, F/F, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7093129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassian/pseuds/kassian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If somebody asked him why and how he'd caught the attention of two kings (and accidentally started a war between them), found out he was actually a reincarnation of some dusty - but important, somehow? - kid from a couple centuries ago, and awoke the greatest villain to ever walk whatever universe he was in right now, he wasn't sure he'd have the heart to give them the answer.</p><p>(Hint: It started with the cat.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	behind the closet hatch

## p r o l o g u e

The little boy had never seen such a butterfly before.

With bated breath and wide, round eyes, he squatted before a colorful bush. His mesmerized gaze trailed the beautiful pattern of the pretty insect, enthralled by its appearance. Perfectly shaped wings extended from a lithe, pitch black body. A dusting of brilliant blue scattered the sky-like wings, before rushing outwards like a metallic ocean.

The boy reached out a tender hand, slow and cautious.

The butterfly did not move from its still perch, its wings fluttering softly in the mild summer breeze. 

Around them, trees swayed delicately, their lovely leaves dappled with sweet, orange-gold light. The soil beneath was dark and rich. A manor sat before the edge of the forest where the boy crouched, stretching out into a large estate. He was alone.

The boy inched closer to the stunning creature, until he was barely millimeters away—

_“Tooru.”_

The boy flinched. The startled insect took flight almost immediately, spiraling away from the boy and the newcomer.

The boy turned around, defeated and at unease.

A woman—tall, lean, and striking—stood before him, her lengthy shadow falling across Tooru’s slight body.

With flawless creamy skin, thick hazel-brown hair, and glimmering eyes, the woman struck an imposing, stunning figure.

“Mother,” the boy said in a small voice.

The woman gave him an indifferent, stony look with impassive obsidian eyes. 

“It’s time to come inside,” she said expressionlessly, ignoring her son’s address to her. “The sun is about to set, and you have studies to complete.”

Before Tooru could answer her back, or even nod, she gripped his hand with long, icy fingers and spun towards the house.

Her long-legged pace left Tooru to hurriedly sprint beside her, his spirits sunken. 

Right before his mother opened the back door, Tooru gave one last look at his dearly-loved forest.

He swore he could see a glint of blue among its trees.

[...]

Living with only his cold mother and a handful of busy, bustling servants in a big, silent manor, Tooru had nobody who spent time with him in his life.

There was no one he could tell to his stories of his daily adventures in the forest. There was no one he could confide in whenever he had frightening nightmares. There was no one to have fun with, to waste time with. And nobody cared if he was lonely, or bored, or scared.

There _had_ been only one person in his life that had actually cared for him, and played with him, and even became his best friend before he’d forgotten about Tooru altogether and just… left. He had gone barely a year ago, and the pain was still fresh in Tooru’s heart. His mother had never approved of him.

He missed him sometimes.

Tooru rolled around in bed, restless.

The morning and afternoon had been lovely, with pleasant drafts of wind and just the right amount of sunlight. The night, however, was sweltering hot.

He kicked the blankets enveloping his bed off onto the floor, feeling sweaty and feverish.

For a moment Tooru contemplated on visiting his mother’s chambers at the end of the hall—he’d been there perhaps only twice, and each memory had the room being almost alarmingly cold—but quickly dismissed the idea. The mere thought of spending a night with his mother seemed impractical and uncomfortable. 

Tooru moved onto his back, frustrated. Fifteen minutes passed as he tried in vain to fall asleep.

Suddenly, he couldn’t take it.

He couldn’t take the darkness and the heavy, thick heat. He couldn’t take the suffocating atmosphere, the heavy feeling that had settled in his chest ever since his mother wrenched him away from that butterfly the earlier morning.

He needed something to clear his head and ready himself again for sleep. Water would do just fine.

Tooru stumbled out of bed, and padded across the room. Opening his door quietly and gently (his mother had ears of a feline) he slipped through the doorway and into the hall.

He scrambled down winding staircases, taking heed to tread quietly but quickly. In no time, he reached the kitchen.

It was an underground section of the house—too large to be properly called a room—and contained enough cooking equipment and ingredients to satisfy a village. It was beside the servants’ quarters and was usually lit up with candles at all times of the day, because the servants woke up early and went to bed late to accommodate their work hours. In order for them to be in the best shape they could be to serve Tooru’s mother, they needed to have energy, so they ate at unholy hours of the day (or night).

The kitchen also, more importantly, had water.

(If Tooru had wanted cooler, fresher water, he probably would’ve gone to the well in the gardens, but leaving the house without his mother’s permission was equivalent to death. His mother was a strict, unforgiving woman with a very broad mind when it came to physical punishment, and Tooru would take aged, warm water over her wrath any day.)

The boy scrambled up onto one of the kitchen’s countertops, and stood up. Opening a cupboard, he slipped out a cup. Inching himself down the surface, the mug cradled close to his chest, Tooru touched upon the floor. He straightened up, and scanned the kitchen for a pitcher of water.

There was one next to the washstand.

Tooru eyed the pitcher wearily before starting forward. Setting the cup on the ground, he went on his tiptoes, reaching for the pitcher. His fingers brushed against the side of the handle, but went no farther.

Frowning, Tooru stretched out his hand even farther, pulling himself to his tallest height. His hand wrapped around the handle, and he let a strained smile spread upon his face before tugging it towards himself.

He overestimated the amount of water it held.

The jug tumbled towards him, and the boy barely had enough time to think, _Oh no_ , before it slid from his grasp and hurtled onto the marble floor with a great crash.

A mix of water and jagged shards of glass littered the floor.

Tooru stared at the mess, his jaw agape. 

Before he could even think of his next move, the door to the kitchen moved marginally.

Tooru caught sight of a young servant girl whose weary but alert eyes skimmed the kitchen, no doubt startled awake by the loud noise. Her gaze fell upon the shattered pitcher, and Tooru could almost see her thoughts.

_Thieves._

With a small squeak, the servant turned around and raced away, leaving a gaping door and a mess behind.

It wasn’t a bad assumption. Many a robber were attracted by the manor’s fineness and luxury, and often tried to break in to steal a piece of furniture, or a stray coin. They usually couldn’t get in, but the rare times they did, they always caused chaos. They never got away, though. Tooru’s mother always dealt with them, and her fury was terrible. They usually never returned. In fact, they generally—

Tooru froze.

_Thief. Servant. Mother._

His _mother_ would be called in.

As quick as a viper, Tooru scurried out of the kitchen. Heart thumping, he sprinted up the stairs. He could hear the pandemonium that was beginning to stir by the kitchen—light flared, and the anxious conversation of the servants started up. 

He reached the first level of the house.

_One more floor. One more floor._

Tooru dashed towards his bedroom, feeling a trickle of relief. Maybe he could do this. Maybe he could escape the chaos of the night and make it to the morning. His mother wouldn’t suspect a thing, and everything would be okay.

He was _almost_ there when he caught sight of the servant girl, at the end of the hall. She was rapidly exchanging words with another voice—stern and glacial.

_His mother._

Tooru backtracked, feeling panic crawl up his throat. 

Frantically, he sped back down the stairs and back to the first level of the house. He ran into the first room he spotted.

He closed the door and locked it, feeling his heart slamming against his ribcage, before pressing an ear against the cool wood.

He could hear his mother’s voice, talking indistinctly, but she didn’t seem to have noticed him.

With a sigh of relief, he turned and let himself slide down the door into a hapless slump, before feeling a giddy laugh rise up his throat. He’d made it.

With a content sigh, Tooru looked around the room.

Nostalgia—a feeling unfamiliar to the young child—sparked in his chest. This particular room—a guest room—had been a common hiding place whenever he’d played hide and seek with his… friend. His heart clenched, before he shook his head and willed the feeling to go away.

The room was popular mostly because of its closet.

Tooru located it easily in the dark. It was across from him, to the right of the untouched bed and tucked neatly into the corner of the room.

He remembered when he’d first discovered it with _him_ —it’d been a shock, because Tooru had often overlooked the guest room as a child. The closet had had a small hatch, which opened up into a small, cramped space carved into the wall. It fit the average small child. It was a perfect hiding place, and hilarious to be found in. You’d be caught with your knees up to your chin and dust in your hair. 

Feeling sentimental, Tooru opened up the closet. Ducking underneath a row of hangers, he found the hatch easily. He hooked a finger around the hatch’s handle and pulled upwards, wincing slightly as it creaked from disuse.

The space was smaller than he’d remembered. Tooru wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to fit in it anymore.

Staring at it fondly, he was about to close it when he heard his mother shriek, _“Oikawa Tooru—come here this instant!”_

Tooru’s eyes widened, and the familiar feeling of fear grew in his bones.

But he knew better than to avoid her. His mother’s anger was like boiled water—the longer it sat among the heat, the more it simmered and grew hotter.

Tooru straightened up.

Before he could take another step, though, something solid and firm wrapped itself around his ankle.

A shriek tore itself from his mouth and Tooru flinched hard; he barely caught sight of a _fist_ at his ankle when it jerked, and he hit the ground.

The hand pulled back with inhuman strength, and he was suddenly hauled into darkness, sliding down a path of rocks and jagged edges into a gloom that had seemed so minuscule before.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! feel free to drop a comment below ;)


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